


soft place to land

by daykid



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Famous, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Baby Driver, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Stress Baking, Vernon-centric, cherries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:08:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29015616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daykid/pseuds/daykid
Summary: Vernon has been working at his parent’s restaurant for as long as he could hold a whisk. He’s met thousands of interesting characters in his life, but no one has ever made him feel this way.His world feels like it’s just a little bit off. It’s too soon for him to decide whether it’s a good thing or not. He just looks down at his notepad and pretends he’s okay with it. Other people would be okay with it.He needs to change.
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	soft place to land

**Author's Note:**

> cw swearing, mentioned smut but no explicit desc, vague references to anxiety
> 
> the rating is just for some of the themes and the sex mention
> 
> title from the waitress musical  
> song seungkwan sings "falling in love pie"/"soft place to land" by sara bareilles

“You’ve got to tell me how you do it, Vern.”

“Do what?”

Seokmin’s laugh is like freshly whipped cream, light and sweet.

“How you make these so fucking good,” he says while shoving down a bite of apple pie.

Baking has always been second nature to Vernon. He learned it from his mother who learned it from her mother who learned it from her mother, and so on.

Given that, the recipe of his DNA could very well be described in cups and tablespoons; Vernon has a heart made of sugar, a head full of chocolate drops, and an inclination towards anything warm and soft like madeleines. If you catch him on a right day, this applies to people too. His family’s diner is a particularly notorious joint for the… quirky people he keeps company with, friends and strangers alike.

Kensington is kinda like a hippie district, each victorian-styled home boasting either a vintage store or specialty grocer in what would normally be someone’s ground floor. The air always smells a little bit like weed and the roofs were inhabited by some guy in a spider-man costume trying to make a quick buck, but that charm has been garnering the attention of indie TikTok kids who thrift things to resell on Depop.

Even so, Vernon doesn’t get a lot of new people in his little bohemian neighbourhood, and he quite likes it that way. Attention doesn’t alway translate to action. Sometimes it ruins the fun. For Vernon, it makes strangers all the more appealing.

He rolls his eyes fondly at Seokmin, “it wouldn’t be a secret recipe if people knew what it is.”

“Check that ego, dude,” Seokmin says playfully, “you’re not some kind of magician who can’t show the crowd the trick.”

“Are you saying my pies are magic?”

“I’m saying they’re good. You’re pushing it.”

He’s a family friend. Seokmin is a year older than Vernon but they’ve always behaved like brothers towards each other. His parents run a quaint farmer’s market where Vernon’s family source a lot of their ingredients. Even so, Seokmin insists that there must be something secret that’s going into the stuff Vernon makes.

He’s about to retort as the door to the diner swings open with a soft chime.

The person who walks in boasts a head of bright red hair, reminiscent of cherries. They’re wearing plain black jeans with rips over the knees showcasing a tanned expanse of skin. On top of that, a caramel brown cardigan and leather jacket. A sort of odd combination, but Vernon is not one to judge. The customer does not make eye contact with anyone at the counter as they take a seat near the window.

Vernon looks at the person a little longer, admiring how the light streaming in through the windows hits their hair just right. It refracts into a warm shade of strawberry pink all too perfectly. The person is stunning, Vernon has to admit. The rise of their cheekbones look soft and round like gumdrops. He tries to ignore the primal desire in him that wonders what it’d be like to bite them.

When Vernon returns his attention back at Seokmin, he’s carrying a sort of knowing gaze; it’s one tablespoon smug and the rest pure mischief.

“Yah, Seok,” Vernon starts cautiously, “why are you smiling like that?”

His friend ignores the question and gives one in return.

“Has anyone ever told you that you stare a lot?”

Vernon scoffs, slightly affronted, “if I find something interesting to look at, I’ll look at it. I’m simple that way.”

“Something and _someone_?”

Vernon frowns. He fixes his apron before stepping out from behind the cash counter, not even sparing a word in his defence. Seokmin receives a playful punch on the arm before Vernon grabs a notepad to take the order down on.

Approaching the booth, Vernon reaffirms that yes, this stranger is really a marvel to look at. Now that he's closer, Vernon can make out a crescent of beauty marks that frame the person’s ear. It’s entrancing.

Vernon doesn’t even notice that he’s been standing in front of the customer’s table silently until the latter laughs up at him. He could try to take offence but there’s no mockery in it, just genuine amusement.

He tries not to fumble the bag twice in one exchange. Some stones were only meant to kill one bird, and that’s perfectly fine.

“Hey, I’m Vernon. You can refer to me with he/him pronouns. What can I get for you this morning?”

The stranger looks down at the menu and back up at Vernon casually.

“I honestly don’t know,” they reply. Vernon tries not to choke up at their sheer sincerity. “Do you have any recommendations?”

“Well, what are you looking for… uh,” Vernon stumbles.

“Boo Seungkwan. He/him also. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Boo…” Vernon recites dumbly, already forgetting what he’s supposed to be doing. “You’re not from around here are you?”

He probably shouldn't have phrased it like that. It sounds rude. Maybe he’ll get a bad rating on Yelp. Yikes.

“You’re right about that one,” Seungkwan replies, not caring at all. “What gave it away?”

“I haven’t seen you around before,” he replies, “and uh, your last name. It’s not common. I mean, in songs, yeah, but not around here. We don’t have any Boo’s in this neighborhood. Unless you just moved here. Then I guess we’d have one Boo. Which is— uh, you.”

Seungkwan laughs again. He seems to find everything amusing, even Vernon’s misery.

Then, “What kind of songs?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said Boo is a common name in songs,” Seungkwan expands, “which ones?”

“Oh,” Vernon pauses, actually thinking, “well there’s ‘My Boo’, ‘Boo’d Up’, ‘Still My Boo’... ‘Peek-a-boo’—”

“By Red Velvet?”

“No,” Vernon frowns, “by the Stylistics. Who’s Red Velvet?”

“What do you mean who’s Red Velvet?” Seungkwan laughs. Then, “Oh my god you’re serious.”

“Maybe they aren’t big here…” he offers, trying to hide his lack of pop culture awareness, “I’m guessing you live downtown?”

“Right again,” Seungkwan says. He seems to have a laugh on the tip of his tongue, every sentence accompanied by amused exasperation. “Ever been?”

“A few times.”

“Was it nice?”

“It was… interesting.”

Seungkwan just nods.

“That’s certainly a word for it.”

They both share a moment of silence, the conversation finally slowing down. Vernon has a lot of questions running around in his head, the kinds of things that can’t be covered over taking orders and asking “cash or credit?” A nagging voice that sounds a lot like Seokmin tells him to ask Seungkwan on a date, but an equally loud voice (his own) protests the idea feverently.

“So, uh,” Vernon says, just now remembering what his job is, “what could I get for you?”

And Seungkwan chuckles again. It’s nice, Vernon thinks. He likes the sound of Seungkwan’s laugh.

“You’re supposed to tell me.”

“Right, right, my apologies,” he corrects himself, thinking of what to recommend. His brain foolishly tells him that there is a lot of weight in the decision, as if it would show Seungkwan what Vernon thought of him. Does he seem like a guy who ate pancakes or waffles? If Vernon recommends something off the lunch menu, would Seungkwan think that he sees him as hungry? Is that a bad thing?

Vernon is so busy watching the world end in his mind that he doesn’t catch Seungkwan calling him “cute” underneath his breath.

“Are you starting your day or just getting off?” he asks after a moment, trying to narrow down his options.

“I don’t really have a schedule. It’s a ‘they call, I go’ situation. Anything’s fine.”

Odd.

“You could try our pie of the day, the ‘Falling in Love’ pie” Vernon says, quelling the curious voice in his head that wants to ask more. “It’s apple and cinnamon. Made in house, of course.”

“That sounds lovely, Vernon. I’ll have that.”

“Cool,” Vernon grins, “if you need anything call out my name. I’ll be back with some water.”

“Will do.”

And that’s how it starts.

“Vern, what the hell are you doing?”

It’s three in the morning and the aforementioned baker is hunched over a pie tin. Vernon stares at the dough in front of him like it’s caused every problem in his life. To the left of it, several already baked pastries that, if anybody didn’t know any better, all look the same. But they’re not the same, Vernon’s silly brain had told him. Something is off about the pies. Something sinister. He just can’t get them right.

“Baking,” he replies before forcefully jamming a heart shaped cookie cutter into the dough.

His roommate walks over to where Vernon’s placed the finished pies. They’re crowded together on the kitchen counter, practically discarded. Their home is a certified wasteland of fruit fillings and flour. Chan has never really had any issues about it— why would he when he gets free food— but it’s only polite to ask if everything is okay.

He does it after taking a bite.

“Dude,” he says with a mouthful, “this pie good? I mean, are you good? The pie is good, I’m not worried about that.”

Vernon doesn’t know how to explain that the pie is not good.

There’s a perverse ache in his heart that comes and goes without any clear pattern. It builds up in Vernon’s chest until it threatens to burst like dough rising in a bowl. His other friends call it a good old-fashioned sulk. But it’s more than that.

Everyone has their own ways of venting. His roommate, Chan, dances. Vernon bakes pies with names so long they could be Fall Out Boy songs.

He wraps up his experiences in dough like writing a journal. His first girlfriend was immortalized in key lime, entirely too sweet for what came after, and it was called “All My Love (Is Only This)” pie. His first break-up was blackberry. “Without You” pie was a bit bitter for his tastes but just the right amount for others. He supposes it’s only natural that tonight, he commemorates Hot Guy From the Diner Seungkwan in a pie. Which shouldn’t be too hard, but is.

Vernon’s frustrated, hurt even, at the fact that he can feel a heavy weight settling in his heart with no clear way to clear it.

Maybe it doesn’t have to do with the pie at all and his mood will pass. Seokmin says it’s common for people to go through these kinds of things, but he’s never seen Seokmin in a funk, so it’s hard to trust his credibility.

Vernon just feels like something is missing.

He has a lot of things going on in his head.

“I’m fine,” he says with a sigh. Lying. “And the pies aren’t. They’re too sweet or they’re too savoury. Or the combination of fruits isn’t right. It’s not like him.”

Chan yawns, showing off all the mushed food in his mouth, “like who?”

“This guy from the diner.”

Chan shakes his head.

“Who?”

“Boo Seungkwan.”

_“Who?”_

Vernon sighs again, “I don’t know, really. He’s just some customer who came in today.”

Chan, ever so patient, nods seriously like he isn’t talking to his deranged friend in the ungodly hours of night.

“What’s he like?” he asks, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Hard to say,” is Vernon’s reply. He turns around and slides up next to Chan, eyes closed, conjuring up memories from earlier in the day. “We talked for a bit when I took his order but when I got back he was just gone.”

“Shit, didn’t pay the bill? Asshole.”

“No, no, no,” Vernon says, quick to defend. “He didn’t eat. Left a note on the napkin saying ‘duty calls’... he mentioned something before about working a weird schedule.”

“Still,” Chan intones before walking over to their fridge for a glass of milk. “Weirdo behaviour. Why’re you all hung up?”

Good question. Why, indeed.

“He just seems really interesting,” is what Vernon settles with. “Like, a breath of fresh air from all those annoying teenagers the diner’s been getting lately, I guess.”

“Right,” Chan nods. He looks at Vernon like he knows something he doesn’t. Everyone he knows seems to be doing that lately.

A moment of silence passes between them.

“Maybe the Seungkwan pie isn’t a pie at all,” his friend says in his wisest voice.

Vernon holds back a laugh, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, they’re a little more complicated than that, right? People, I mean. People are complicated.”

He’s trying to convince himself, more than anything else, that this is nothing. Vernon just hums and smiles, ignoring the weird mix of exhaustion and frustration in his head.

“I guess you’re right.”

“Seungkwan. How are you today?”

“Vernon the waitress. Nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,” he replies. “I do hope you plan on staying around this time.”

Seungkwan gives him a look adjacent to a child being scolded. There must have been something in the tone of Vernon’s voice, maybe a sheer sense of honesty, or need, that shocks Seungkwan into an earnest expression of surprise. It strikes him then and there how young Seungkwan really looks, features incredibly soft and round like a newborn kid.

“I have to make up for my disappearance yesterday,” Seungkwan says. He says it like he means it to be lighthearted and jokey, but Vernon can’t ignore a small sense of genuine remorse.

“It’s fine, I understand that you had some work to do.”

Seungkwan smiles at him, bright and unabashed.

“So what do you recommend I have today, Vernon? I’m all ears.”

If only Seungkwan knew that Vernon’s been practicing what he’d say in this moment since he’s been absent. A weird nag in his mind told him that his character had thrown Seungkwan off and that’s why he’d left before, but they seem to be getting along now, so that can’t be it.

“We’ve got one of our good chefs in today,” he says in a low voice, all for show, “so I’d recommend the waffles. Unless you don’t like sweet things, then the egg breakfast is pretty good.”

Seungkwan drops into a whisper as well, “oh, do you have some slackers who don’t appreciate the art of good food?”

“I wouldn’t say that. They’re more like lazy friends.”

“I see,” Seungkwan concedes, leaning back. “Well I’ll have the waffles, then. The sugar will wake me up.”

Vernon notes it down while asking, “ah, so you’ve just gotten off work?”

“Unfortunately. They have me working so early in the morning these days.”

“Do you work around here?” Vernon asks, daring to venture farther into a territory called “things I don’t know about Seungkwan.” He really wants to know Seungkwan’s deal.

“Not really? It depends. I’m like a driver, of sorts.”

“Oh, like a chauffeur? That’s pretty cool.”

Seungkwan lets out an incredulous laugh, “Not exactly. But it’s nice to travel around.”

“Will we be seeing you around here often? Or does your job take you out of the GTA?”

Vernon tries to make it seem like he isn’t expecting anything. He isn’t, by the way, just curious.

“Usually,” Seungkwan says. “But I quite like this place, good food, friendly staff. I might drop by every now and then.”

Vernon wants to say that Seungkwan hasn’t even had their food yet, but then he would have to admit that the only thing Seungkwan likes about the diner is “friendly staff” ie. Vernon, and that’d be terrible.

“Well I— We’ll be looking forward to your continued patronage,” he bows slightly out of politeness, “I’ll go get your order started.”

“Thanks.”

Vernon has been working at his parent’s restaurant for as long as he could hold a whisk. He’s met thousands of interesting characters in his life, but no one has ever made him feel this way.

His world feels like it’s just a little bit off. It’s too soon for him to decide whether it’s a good thing or not. He just looks down at his notepad and pretends he’s okay with it. Other people would be okay with it.

He needs to change.

Imagine a bakery next to an auto repair shop.

Maybe, somehow, the owner of the bakery decides they want to expand into machinery work and acquires the building next door. Or maybe the two owners get married and the merger happens naturally.

What if the baker starts using things from the car parts shop? Car key lime pie. String in your strawberry cheesecake. Nuts and bolts in your peanut butter brownies.

The pie is merely a casing for the contents inside. It must be the most important part.

Wrong.

They say a crumbly crust is the bane of a pie’s existence. So is a sticky crust, or a burnt one. The outside of the pie is just as important as what’s inside. There’s nothing worse than biting into a sad, dull looking crust, no matter its contents.

Vernon wants to believe that he has a good heart. He just needs to shed this discontented, outer layer off, and soon, before it drives everyone away.

Vernon’s sitting on a couch flipping through cooking shows to get his mind off things. Things being Seungkwan, of course.

The door to the apartment opens. Vernon figures it could only be Chan so he just keeps pressing buttons on the remote control.

“Dude, you’re home late,” he says. The Great British Bake-Off is on but it’s already halfway through the episode. Vernon really can’t get anything he wants.

Chan steps out of his shoes and puts something down (plastic bags, from the sound of it) sighing, “yeah. Boba shop customers are ruthless. We’re getting calls at like, midnight asking if we’re open. My boss goes, hm. We’re not… but we could be!”

He walks into their living room slash dining room slash sometimes bedroom— they live in one of those “open concept” flats, where everything is nothing and costs a reasonable amount because it has 80% less walls than average living spaces. It’s close to Pie in The Sky but not enough that Vernon could walk there every morning. They live in the suburbs of the GTA, for god sakes. Everything is four business days away from each other.

“So he decided to extend shop hours,” Chan goes on, “and I’m like a spring chicken right?”

Vernon sort of nods, sort of grunts.

“Exactly, that’s what my boss thinks too. He put me on the late shift, which is really, really, fucking with studio hours.”

“Damn,” Vernon comments dryly, “so what’re you gonna do?”

Chan sits down on the couch and adjusts himself so that he’s leaning against Vernon’s side. They’re high school friends before they’re roommates, which is to say that they’ve done worse shit together.

Vernon really shouldn’t be putting comfortable gestures of intimacy on a scale of how bad it is. That’s just how it comes together naturally, unfortunately.

“I can still go on the weekends, or before work starts, I guess. I don’t know.”

Vernon snorts, “you should just quit if you hate it so much.”

“I don’t hate it.”

“Sure.”

“Besides, who’s gonna pay rent?”

“Oh, I pay rent plenty,” Vernon says. “Lee Chan the dancer. World famous for dancing. He’s a dancer… who dances. Amazing.”

Chan chuckles and nudges Vernon’s side, “in my dreams.”

They lay there for a while to the sounds of James Acaster desecrating a shortbread recipe. Vernon likes to think he is practicing prudence by watching these kinds of shows. Just enjoy the people, the personalities. And he finds that most people don’t care about the food when the guests are so entertaining.

“Remember that guy from the diner I told you about?” Vernon asks. He might as well talk about Seungkwan if his mind won’t stop bringing him up. Chan nods against his shoulder.

“Well he came back the other day.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“And…?”

What can Vernon say about Seungkwan? Well, he knows that Seungkwan is stupidly pretty in a completely confusing way. Like, he has this charming air about him with the whole leather jacket thing and tight pants, but he looks kind of dorky with the bowl cut. Cute but beautiful. An enigma. He knows that Seungkwan comes and goes by the diner with no set schedule, no pattern.

He doesn’t know what Seungkwan’s job is, not exactly. He’s said he’s “like a driver” but that could just be a cover up. But he supposes that’s part of the fun: not knowing.

“He’s nice,” is all Vernon says.

Chan lets out a huge groan, “tell me more. You think everyone is nice.”

“That’s not true. Remember—”

“The guy, Vern. Tell me about the guy.”

“I said already I don’t know a lot about him. That hasn’t really changed. But I want to know more? Yeah. And I can’t really stop thinking about him. It’s a little psycho.”

Chan shrugs, “that’s a good thing isn’t it?”

“I guess. I don’t know.”

“I think it’s simple, really. If he makes you feel good or you’re interested in him, then just let it be. If it makes you feel bad though, he’s just some other guy. You have a lot of other guys in your life. Like me.”

“I’m touched,” Vernon says sarcastically, draping himself over Chan’s lap.

He doesn’t have much to say. Chan is right, as he usually is. He should just let everything happen as it is supposed to be, and stop worrying. That’s how he’s lived up until now. There’s just something about Seungkwan that makes him second guess, he’s always just looking over his shoulder.

“You should invite him out or something, it shows you care.”

He should. Vernon just stares at his hands, remembering that this is his body, this is his life, and tries to come back into himself.

He bakes four pies that night and throws three of them in the trash. Tomorrow’s special is called “I don’t know how to ask this, but what time were you born?”

Vernon’s in the back kitchen, putting fresh tarts into the oven. Seokmin is there too, eating candied cherries by the walk-in freezer. Technically, he’s not an employee so he shouldn’t be back there, not that technicalities matter, though.

Three rings come from the phone at the front desk.

“Vern! Someone’s on the phone for you,” Mingyu calls from the cash register.

“On my way,” he chimes back, closing the door and setting a timer. He makes his way to the phone, wiping his hands on his apron. The diner isn’t open yet, so perhaps they’re getting a catering order.

Vernon puts on his best customer service voice, “Good morning, thank you for calling Pie in The Sky. This is Vernon, what can I do for you?”

There’s a laugh over the receiver that he instantly recognizes.

They’ve only talked twice.

“Hey Vernon,” Seungkwan beams happily over the receiver, “I do have a particularly strange request.”

“And what would that be?”

“Do you wanna hang out for a bit? I have a day off, and we can drive into the city. Ah, but if you have to work today it’s okay.”

Vernon pauses. He couldn’t just leave work, right? He’s already there.

“You’re not inviting a stranger out with you, are you Seungkwan?” he jokes, buying himself time to weigh options.

“Well, you just addressed me by name, so we’re not so estranged at all.”

“Right, right. Can you give me one moment?”

“Yup—”

Vernon puts the phone on hold. He spins around to talk to Mingyu and is greeted with what people call a shit-eating grin.

“Who’s this Seungkwan guy?” he asks, too curious for his own good.

Seokmin emerges from the back room as if the mere mention of gossip summons him.

“Vernon’s boy crush,” he teases, lips stained red from fruit juice.

Vernon can’t help the look of distress that passes over him, “a regular. He just asked me to go downtown with him? At seven in the morning? I don’t know what to do.”

“Dude! Go with him, it sounds fun.”

Mingyu agrees with Seokmin. Great.

“Are you even listening?” Vernon says, exasperated, “he wants to go now. We haven’t even opened yet. I have to call someone to fill in and—”

Mingyu stops him, “listen. It’s fine.”

“I can cover!” Seokmin says. “This place isn’t gonna burn down just because you aren’t here, dude.”

“Plus, it wouldn’t kill you to stop thinking about pies for once in your life.”

Vernon feels like he’s being attacked, “I don’t—”

“Anyways!” Mingyu interrupts again, picking up the phone behind Vernon’s back, “hey, is this Seungkwan? Hi! I’m Mingyu. Vernon said he’d love to come, what time are you planning on coming down by?”

Seokmin practically pulls Vernon’s apron off him, tying it around his own waist. He’s not even an employee. This is going to be terrible.

Mingyu goes on, “oh? You’re here already?”

The three turn to look outside and sure enough, Seungkwan is casted in the cool morning sun, leaning against a red car. It looks like a racer, like a WRX, very city vibes. They kind of gawk at him. How come they hadn’t noticed when he pulled in? Seungkwan has to be some kind of spy, or getaway driver.

Vernon is filled with a dread knowing that Seungkwan probably saw him worrying over everything over the phone, and makes a non-committal sound at the back of his throat.

“Yeah, he’ll be out in a second. It’s nice to meet you, Seungkwan.”

Mingyu finishes up the call quickly after. Vernon finds himself being pushed out the doors of the diner just as speedy. He’s muttering nonsense, combing his hands through his hair and trying to look at least a little respectable.

“I just put something in the oven and there’s a timer so you need to pull it out by then and let them cool for at least an hour before serving them and—”

“Vernon, relax,” Seokmin says now, softly and seriously.

If Vernon didn’t know any better, he’d think that this is going to go swimmingly. But he does know better, and besides baking, Vernon destroys everything he touches, reverse Midas, so this is going to be awful.

Once he’s out the door, it's just him, Seungkwan and the steady hum of morning traffic.

“Let’s go for a drive,” Seungkwan says.

“Okay,” is Vernon’s reply. “Sure.”

He doesn’t really know what he expected Seungkwan’s car to smell like— not like he’s been too good at having reasonable expectations for anything lately— but it couldn’t have been this. The air, no matter how long the window stays open, smells adjacent to a bath and body works store. Sweet. Hints of chamomile. Or maybe it is just Seungkwan.

He’s humming along to the song playing over the radio. It’s playing softly but Vernon could make out some of the words.

“It starts with a feeling that bubbles up when you see him,” Seungkwan sings softly.

Vernon really isn’t a good judge of these things, but he thinks Seungkwan sounds good. He thinks he sounds great even. He could be a singer in one of those huge arenas that dwarf the size of Vernon’s family restaurant, his whole world.

Seungkwan catches him staring.

“What’s up, Vernon?” the older asks, “Something interesting on my face?”

“Oh um,” Vernon scrambles for an excuse. He doesn’t know why he feels guilty. “I like… your hair? I like your hair. Did you do something new with it?”

He needs to get better at being less obvious.

Seungkwan rolls his eyes, “Sure,” he says.

Vernon can’t really tell if he’s making fun of him or answering his question. He really does like his hair, he wasn’t just making it up. But now he already sounds ingenuine, so he keeps the extra compliments to himself.

“So…” he supplies, albeit a bit awkwardly, “what kind of music are you into?” Steer the conversation back towards singing, Vernon’s subconscious cheers, good work.

“Anything that sounds good, really,” Seungkwan says. “A lot of RNB though, I’m a prolific Beyonce fan.”

“Really?”

Seungkwan spares a sideways glance, “I didn’t stutter. What about you?”

“I’d say the same,” Vernon answers. “Rap mostly.”

“Wow, do you rap?”

“Oh god no, not professionally anyways.”

“So you do.”

“I mean, sure, but just for fun. You know, karaoke things.”

Seungkwan sighs dreamily, “I love singing. It’s like, forgetting stress or letting stress out for just three minutes. It feels good, even if you’re bad.”

“It’s cool,” Vernon agrees, “do you want to be a singer?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know how it would feel to make something I like an obligation. ”

Vernon can relate to that.

“Either way, I’m always down for a good karaoke night.”

Vernon hums, “we should go sometime, then.”

He watches Seungkwan’s face contort in the corner of his eye, like he’s trying to figure him out. He’s probably making the same expression.

“It’s a date,” Seungkwan agrees, no hint of a joke in his tone.

Vernon wonders how he does it, being so bold and honest. The sheer sincerity loud enough on it’s own to encompass his emotions, enough to eat them whole.

He looks out the window and tells himself it’s nothing.

They talk, and the drive really isn’t that long, and everything is fine. Vernon battles his mind into being quiet for the short amount of time it takes to get downtown, just enough to enjoy himself. It shouldn’t be an uphill climb to maintain happiness, Vernon knows that. It’s the mood. It’s the mood.

“Where are we going, by the way?” he asks as they pull into the core of the city. It’s properly noon now, the sidewalks bustling with people who have things to do, places to be, people to impress.

“Not too sure.”

Then there is Seungkwan, who feels like the antithesis to those things.

“Oh, I thought you had a plan.”

“I rarely do,” Seungkwan grins, “I go with whatever strikes me at the moment.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard here, everything is so… in your face.”

Vernon peers over the dashboard, watching as billboards flash sales ads and other things.

“Like what?”

“Like there’s a new movie out apparently,” he remarks, “something quote ‘critically acclaimed.’”

Seungkwan perks up at that, “you wanna go see it?”

“At twelve in the afternoon?”

“Yeah,” he affirms, “it’s called going to a matinee or something.”

They reach a part of the street that isn’t overshadowed by building shadows. For a moment, Seungkwan looks ethereal. Maybe Vernon is a little crazy, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the mole on Seungkwan’s cheek. His hair looks like fire. A goddamn biblical angel; the ones with a thousand eyes and six wings.

“Sure,” Vernon agrees after coming back into his body.

He wonders why liking Seungkwan feels like losing himself.

So the movie is pretty bad. They’re reaching the climax of it where the couple (one part charismatic and aloof man, the other a sexy and independent woman) finally realize they do love each other and want to have steamy hot sex before going off to battle. Vernon thinks that all blockbuster movies are the same.

The main couple are at a hotel. It’s supposed to appear homegrown like the vegetables Vernon buys from the grocery; they want to look soft and sprung like the warm candlelight surrounding the bed. They're about to elope.

Seungkwan is entranced as the couple jokes around, eating cherries off each other’s bodies while Vernon wonders why this scene is so graphic.

He focuses on watching Seungkwan be absolutely floored by whatever is transpiring on screen. His eyes seem to sparkle but maybe that’s Vernon’s brain playing tricks on him again.

“Did you fucking see that?” Seungkwan asks suddenly. “That was so hot!”

Vernon didn’t. “Yeah, dude. That’s wild.”

Seungkwan breathes out, “I wanna learn how to do that.”

Completely oblivious, Vernon turns his attention back to the movie. He tries to piece together what exactly happened, but everything is moving too fast.

Seungkwan ends up leaning his head against his shoulder somewhere near the end of the film. His hair is soft and smells like fruit.

A small voice in Vernon’s head tells him to do something in return, try to show that he cares. But he doesn’t.

Everything is moving too fast.

Vernon isn’t the type to kiss-and-tell, or in his case, go-on-a-day-trip-and-tell. Whether or not it could be considered a date is not something he wants to think about, so he doesn’t.

After the movie, they hung around the downtown core just talking and wasting time away. Seungkwan drove him home and that’s all there is to it. Vernon insisted that Seungkwan should come up, stay for dinner or something, but his request was refused. He had work to do.

So it’s just Vernon and Chan at the dining table, eating microwaved leftovers from the weekend prior.

“How was work?” Chan asks, out of politeness, or mundanity.

“I didn’t go into work today.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“What’d you do, then?”

Vernon pushes around the food on his plate, “I hung out with that Seungkwan guy.”

Chan doesn’t even look surprised.

“That’s cool. What’d you guys do?”

“Saw a movie, had lunch after.”

“For nine hours?” Chan asks, finally looking up from his plate. He quirks an eyebrow at Vernon.

“If you factor in travel time…”

“Dude, if you’re fucking this guy just say that.”

Vernon frowns, “We’re not. It’s not like that.”

Chan doesn’t look convinced, smirking, “sure. What’s it like then?”

“We’re friends. I mean. I’d like to know more about him, eventually.”

“Oh, so you were on a date?”

“I wouldn’t say it was a date,” Vernon says. He fidgets with his fork, wiggling it between his fingers. “We were just hanging out.”

Chan, bored with Vernon’s skittishness, moves on.

“Is he cute?”

“I guess.” He feels stupid saying it. Cute is such a lame way to describe him.

“You’re no fun.”

Vernon would have to kill Chan one day, maybe after he finishes his story about the dance studio and how cool the owner is, but he will.

Seungkwan stops by more frequently now. He’s memorized Vernon’s schedule and usually shows up by the end of them. Sometimes, if Vernon’s closing, he’ll come in and help clean up the tables. They go for a drive after, or don’t, and Seungkwan always takes him home.

It’s quite nice, really.

Vernon figures that maybe he isn’t so rotten after all, maybe he’s good. He wants to tell Seungkwan that he makes him feel good, but the words are never there.

He can never say anything that matters.

“What’s the special?” Mingyu asks. They’re opening in five.

Vernon laughs, “something stupid.”

He pencils in “collaborative Pinterest board pie” on the chalkboard. It’s filling is all red fruits, and the taste is a little spicy. Just enough to keep you warm.

They’ve fallen into a comfortable rhythm, you could say. Vernon knows when to expect Seungkwan and doesn’t wait around for anything else.

It’s a surprise, then, when Seungkwan appears in the middle of his shift. His hair is a mess and he’s not wearing any leather gear, just a simple pair of sweats and an oversized shirt.

“Vernon!” he calls as he steps into the diner, “I gotta show you something.”

Evidently, Seungkwan doesn’t really have a sense of professionalism, so everyone is looking at Vernon in vague interest. He feels like throwing up.

Vernon takes a sort of walk of shame after whispering to Mingyu that he’ll be taking his fifteen now. His friends don’t mind, not really, but he minds. Vernon always cares.

Seungkwan lets Vernon into his car before he speaks.

“I can’t do it here,” he says seriously, then turns on the ignition.

Vernon is being kidnapped.

“You’re kidnapping me.”

“Kidnapping implies that you don’t wanna come,” Seungkwan replies, “you wanna come, right?”

Innuendos aside, Vernon shrugs, “I’m in the middle of a shift.”

He says that like Seungkwan doesn’t know it for himself.

“That doesn’t tell me anything. Here we go!”

Seungkwan doesn’t drive them far for whatever he wants to show off. Vernon can’t place the location, a roadside cliff a little far out, nor can he place a reason what he’s about to see.

As he parks the car, Seungkwan reaches an arm backwards, reaching for something in the back seat. Vernon stares ahead, wondering how he gets in situations like this.

“Fuck,” Seungkwan says under his breath before unbuckling his seatbelt. He slides out of the car to get whatever he’s looking for. Vernon, feeling personally awkward, steps out of the car too.

The air is wafer light and crisp, and it’s sunny out. As Vernon peers over the edge of the cliff, he can see a small river that runs through a small forest.

“What are you doing out there,” Seungkwan says from inside the car, “get back in here.”

So he does.

Vernon sits in the back next to Seungkwan. He doesn’t know a lot about cars, but Seungkwan’s is well kept. There’s only one wrapper on the floor, compared to his and Chan’s dingy Corola which might as well double as a garbage can.

“Okay,” Seungkwan brandishes a bag of cherries, “ready for me to knock your fucking socks off?”

He grins, holding a maraschino right in front of Vernon’s face. Something clicks.

The movie. What happened in that goddamn movie?

“Yeah, dude.” Vernon says, leaning back. He doesn’t notice how he’s holding his breath until his back hits the car door.

“Don’t call me dude,” Seungkwan laughs before plopping the body of the cherry in his mouth. He detaches the fruit from the stem, chewing a few times quickly before swallowing. When he’s done, he shows off the stem like a magician about to do a trick. A little bit of flourish, a teaspoon of obnoxiousness. Then, the stem is in his mouth and Vernon finds himself following the curve of Seungkwan’s lips very closely.

In any other case, the way Vernon is staring at Seungkwan’s mouth would be ridiculed. At this moment, he shouldn't be doing anything but that. Vernon almost greedily imprints the image of it into his head.

Seungkwan’s face is one of pure concentration. His eyes are closed, jaw moving every which way doing whatever magic was going on behind the scenes.

Then, the way his eyes snap open wide has Vernon seeing stars. Seungkwan opens his mouth revealing the knotted cherry stem, and yeah, Vernon’s mind is a bit blown.

“Woah,” he says as Seungkwan picks the stem off his tongue so Vernon can see it better.

The older gives a triumphant cheer, “I know right. I literally spent my entire night trying to do it, and then it was like two a.m. and I got it and I just had to show you.”

“How’d you do it?”

“It’s kind of complicated.” Seungkwan says. He leans backward until he’s lying parallel to Vernon’s leg. The way he looks while staring up at Vernon should be illegal. He wants to frame a picture of it and never look at it again.

“What do you mean?” Vernon asks, trying to keep his voice as levelled as possible.

Seungkwan hums, “well, there’s like three ways to do it, for one. They’re not that different, it’s just a lot of steps.”

He then goes to explain that he must soften the cherry stem (if it’s a fresh one), and then lay it parallel on his tongue. Then, after pressing it to the roof of his mouth, he has to hold it between his two front teeth so he can cross the stem over itself and feed one end into the knot. Seungkwan’s halfway through another explanation where he’s not allowed to use his hands when he asks if Vernon wants to try.

He says sure and before he knows it, Seungkwan is getting another cherry from the bag. He passes one to Vernon after he bites the fruit off. Then, Seungkwan walks him through the entire process slowly.

Vernon tries his best to focus with Seungkwan sitting across from him, studying every shift of his jaw with determination. He puts the stem on his tongue, bends it, but keeps fumbling from there on. He tries to feed the large end of the stem through the hole with no avail. He keeps trying until the stem snaps from being worn out, and he spits the stem onto his palm with a loud groan.

He tries it the other way.

“This is complicated.”

“Maybe you just suck,” Seungkwan leans forward to jab Vernon’s side, “lighten up.”

Vernon fights back, pushing Seungkwan so that he falls back on his elbows. He then pokes him in the side which makes Seungkwan laugh.

Knowing what’s coming, Seungkwan pushes Vernon so that he’s laying on his back. The space is tight. Vernon hits the car door with a soft “oof” before having a flurry of hands come for his waist. They wrestle for a while, gentle laughs resonating throughout the car.

Vernon’s leg spazzes out when Seungkwan gets him good, so Seungkwan sits on his legs to make sure he doesn’t get concussed. Eventually, Vernon loses any energy to resist, and Seungkwan pins his arms over his chest.

Vernon, just now recognizing the position they’re in, feels awfully cliche. His face heats up as Seungkwan stares down at him, smug grin and all.

“Hey _dude_ ,” he says, mockingly, “you wanna know the third way?”

“They’re all the same aren’t they?”

“No, I made this one up myself.”

Vernon quits squirming underneath Seungkwan’s arms, “then by all means. Show me.”

Seungkwan releases his wrists to lean behind and grab another cherry from the bag. He bites the stem off, juice from eating several of the fruit now staining his lips a bright red and coating it in a shine.

He leans towards Vernon’s face, “open up.”

And Vernon abides. Seungkwan places the stem on his tongue and Vernon’s head starts spinning. _What are we doing, what are we doing, what are we—_

“What’s next?” Vernon asks dumbly, mouth still open.

Seungkwan kisses him. His tongue goes straight into Vernon’s mouth, curling over the stem and tasting very sweet. Instinctually, Vernon’s arms reach out to grab something. He settles on Seungkwan’s thighs. They’re trembling.

He doesn’t know if he should be kissing back, so his mouth just kinda lays open and lazy.

Seungkwan holds Vernon’s head in place and turns it every which way while his tongue tries to make sense of the cherry stem’s knot. Every angle is awkward and hurts. _Damn the trick_ , Vernon thinks to himself, he was fucking kissing Boo Seungkwan for crying out loud.

Just as he wants to voice this, Seungkwan pulls away with a lewd string of saliva between them. He grins down at him before reaching into his mouth and pulling out, well, a perfectly tied cherry stem.

“Think you can do it on your own now?” Seungkwan jokes, and Vernon finds it an absolutely absurd thing to ask when his shirt is halfway off his chest.

“Seungkwan,” Vernon starts, “I mean this in the nicest way possible: I don’t give a fuck about the trick.”

They’re kissing again.

Vernon pulls Seungkwan in by the waist, something guttural bubbling from the depths of his stomach as his body presses against his. There’s something right about this. Vernon feels like he could have Seungkwan like this and that it’s enough.

Seungkwan kisses him so hard it’s almost painful. The feeling of it all is so inexplicable in a “kissing is not usually this complicated” way.

 _People are complicated_ , Chan’s voice says in Vernon’s head. Damn him for plaguing his psyche while he’s supposed to be focusing on the way Seungkwan’s tongue runs laps around his mouth.

It makes Vernon’s chest heave and the rest of his body paralyze. Like, it really shouldn’t feel this amazing but it does. Like, why is he thinking so much right now anyways?

Vernon cards his fingers through Seungkwan’s hair, the heat in his stomach spreading like wildfire. He could imagine any other time, Seungkwan would say something like _dude, don’t fuck my hair up._ But now isn’t that time, and Seungkwan kisses him more feverishly. He likes it. He turns his head sideways and kisses him, presses his nose against Vernon’s cheek and kisses him. He kisses him again and again and again.

Why have they never kissed before?

Vernon feels like he should say something but the words are stuck in his throat. It’s lost in the way Seungkwan loves him. And Seungkwan loves him violently.

His mind hasn’t ever felt this blank.

It feels, strangely, like an out of body experience. Vernon watches himself be swallowed by Seungkwan’s embrace. He watches.

Vernon refuses to admit how good he feels these days. He checks Yelp, Pie in The Sky has been getting raving reviews lately. Everyone is noticing it.

He starts kneading in the morning. He smiles as he sprinkles the dough with Seungkwan’s favourite spices. It smells like honey, thyme and strawberries.

Imagine a bakery next to an auto repair shop.

The baker hasn’t married the mechanic, not yet, at least. But they have a kind of symbiotic relationship. The mechanic teaches the baker how to put a little elbow grease without hurting themselves. The baker teaches the mechanic how to be delicate and gentle.

They learn from each other. They make each other better.

Vernon’s grin is stupidly wide the next time Seungkwan comes by to visit.

“Vernon the waitress! Whatcha got there?”

He feels a little embarrassed now, but Vernon lifts the cover off a pie that he’s been perfecting all day.

“It’s nothing really,” he says instinctually, “I just wanted to make you something, since I had such a fun time the other day.”

Seungkwan is laughing in his face.

“Oh my god,” he says between breaths, “you make a ‘thank you for sex pie’?”

“Seungkwan!” Vernon scolds, glancing around. From the sound of pots clattering in the background, someone overheard. He’ll be getting shit from Mingyu for the next week, probably.

The redhead keeps chuckling to himself, “that’s way too good. You’re fantastic.”

“Can you at least taste it before you say that?”

Vernon feigns exasperation and shoves the pie over to Seungkwan. Seungkwan grabs a plastic fork off the counter and takes a bite of it.

It may be a small gesture but it’s the best Vernon can do, if he’s honest. He doesn’t know how to show he cares in any other way.

Seungkwan doesn’t care. But he should. Maybe he should.

It’s a Friday night and Vernon’s closing up the diner. They’re finishing slightly earlier in favour of a karaoke night Vernon set up, you know. A gesture of appreciation.

Seokmin is going, as well as Mingyu and Chan. Seungkwan is supposed to drive in soon with some friends of his own, and it’s predicted to be a total romp. There’s nothing, really, to be nervous about. Vernon just hopes it all turns out well.

Seokmin is especially interested. He's practically bouncing off the walls just asking about Seungkwan since he showed up to loiter around the diner that morning. He keeps saying things like, “I can’t wait to meet your boyfriend” and when Vernon says “we aren’t boyfriends” he asks “why not?”

Vernon doesn’t know. They haven’t talked about it yet. They don’t need to talk about it right now. He likes where they’re at right now.

It shouldn’t matter anyway, the titles. If Seungkwan cares, he would let him know. So it’s safe to assume it doesn’t.

Vernon casts a weary gaze at his reflection in the diner windows. Seokmin helped Mingyu clean up and now the only thing left to do is wait.

Seungkwan shows up on time, of course, because he is nothing if he isn’t punctual, and Vernon braces himself for the worst.

Vernon’s friends are eager to meet Seungkwan officially, not in brief glances out the diner windows, or over the phone, except for Chan who stays back. As Seungkwan comes in, Seokmin is the first to introduce himself.

“Hi! I’m Lee Seokmin, it’s really nice to finally meet the guy who’s taking care of our Nonnie.”

Vernon frowns to himself, Seokmin hasn’t called him that since they were kids.

“Boo Seungkwan,” Seungkwan greets cooly, “and it’s an honour to babysit Vernon, really. The pleasure is all mine.”

Seokmin scrunches his nose up and looks at Vernon as if to say “you never mentioned that he’s funny. Vernon, why didn’t you mention that? Why don’t you talk about him?”

Maybe that last part is just Vernon’s brain speaking.

Mingyu goes next, insisting that Seungkwan is just so cute he could eat him. Technically they’ve already introduced themselves over the phone. Vernon’s frown almost deepens before Chan nudges him in the side in a “chill out” kind of way.

When Seungkwan is done talking to Seokmin and Mingyu, he walks up to Vernon with two friends in tow.

“Were we on time?” he asks without expecting an answer. “This is Soonyoung and Jeonghan, by the way.”

Chan looks like he’s just been hit by a freight train.

“Hyung? No way!”

Vernon finds out from the conversation that ensues afterwards that Chan and Soonyoung go to the same dance studio together (in fact, he’d told Vernon in depth about Soonyoung the other day). “Small world” he muses in his head as the two go talk animatedly somewhere else.

That just leaves him, Seungkwan and Jeonghan.

The latter is a kind of mischievous looking guy with long blond hair and a cunning smirk.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Vernon says politely, “I’m Vernon.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Jeez, he even talks mysteriously.

“I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into,” Jeonghan continues, “being friends with our little Kwanie here.”

Vernon tries to laugh casually, “he’s not that bad.”

Seungkwan pipes up, “I’m right here guys, so maybe include me.”

It’s the first time Vernon has really seen Seungkwan be whiny and it throws him a little off kilter. Maybe there are a lot of things that he doesn’t know about Seungkwan. That would make him a bad person, wouldn’t it?

Vernon shakes it off.

“We should get going. I reserved a place for eight.”

“You’re right,” Seungkwan agrees, lightening up. “You wanna come in my car?”

Vernon pauses, ignoring the way Seungkwan’s eyebrows shoot up at the joke, “no, it’s okay. My friends can’t be trusted to be alone.”

Jeonghan gives Vernon a look but he doesn’t return it. Maybe he has him all figured out just like everyone else.

Vernon just really wants this night to go well.

Everything is fine, really. In fact, everything is going great. Everyone is having fun, Seungkwan definitely looks like he’s having fun, so that’s good. Maybe not everything Vernon tries goes to shit eventually.

He’s sitting at the back of the karaoke room, having vowed not to drink because he is the designated driver. With a lack of alcohol in his system, he hasn’t and doesn’t currently feel a compelling need to get out on the dance floor. He’s just watching.

Jeonghan, who’s a few shots in, walks over sloppily and sits next to Vernon.

“So,” he starts, somewhat well articulated for a wasted person, “what’s your deal?”

“What?” Vernon asks back, trying not to feel affronted.

“Like, what are you doing with Seungkwan?”

“I don’t get what you mean.”

“Kwanie tells me everything. I know everything about you.”

“Everything?” Vernon worries. He suddenly feels a nervousness settling in his heart. It’s so irrational. He has nothing to hide, so why does he feel so guilty?

“Yeah. And I’m wondering, why aren’t you guys together yet? What’s your deal?”

Vernon can’t say what he feels. Then he has to explain the pies. Then he has to explain the weird moods he has and then he has to explain why being with Seungkwan always feels so wrong. He doesn’t even know Jeonghan.

“I—”

“Yoon Jeonghan!” Seungkwan calls from the other side of the room, “it’s your turn!”

“Coming!” Jeonghan yells back. He gets up without another word.

Vernon closes his eyes.

The cliche and dumb truth is that people will find themselves in a bad place and don’t try to get out of it. Which is stupid, in theory, because then they just stay in that place indefinitely. Occasionally, you can try to relish in little joys, stretch and pull those things like molding dough trying to make it last forever. It can only withstand so much contact before becoming stiff, however, useless.

Vernon might be in love, he doesn’t know. He never knows. And he should know, right? If he fully commits, that should be the first thing he’s confident in. It’s not Seungkwan’s fault, there’s just something wrong with him.

His anxiety just can’t stop growing, wild and restless. It makes it hard to articulate, much less talk about how he feels. The pies aren’t doing him justice. Seeing Seungkwan feels like cheating. Between the midnight drives and late night shifts, something isn’t right.

He opens his eyes to Seungkwan giving him a worried look. He sits down next to him in the same spot where Jeonghan just was.

“Was he bothering you?” he asks, “are you alright?”

It’s weird how Seungkwan can pick up on Vernon’s moods. He’s usually good enough at venting them that he doesn’t raise too many questions. He likes it that way.

There’s a fine line between wanting to be understood and the visceral fear of being known.

“I’m fine, just a little tired.”

“We can go home now, if you want.”

Vernon stares at Seungkwan, “my place or yours?”

“I know you’ve never been, but I live pretty close to here. You could come, if you want.”

“That’d be nice.”

“You can always talk to me, you know. We don’t usually talk about that stuff but if it makes you feel better, just lay it on me. I… I think I can handle that.”

Seungkwan is too good for him, Vernon realizes.

He doesn’t have time to respond. A new song starts and Seokmin pulls Seungkwan away from him.

That night, Vernon goes home alone. The apartment is empty with Chan at work.

That night, he lays in bed, regretting everything.

He gets a text message from Seungkwan but he doesn’t reply. He can’t.

Vernon doesn't make bad pies yet Mingyu insists that he should only work tables. They’re serving pre-made frozen pastries now, which just has to be an attack on Vernon’s integrity.

He doesn’t really know what he expected. Do something shitty and get treated like shit in return.

Seokmin is mad at him, to say the least. To say the most, Seokmin is really, really fucking mad at him.

“You messed it up,” he says. Then, something along the lines of “he was good for you. You fucked it up.”

He knows. Vernon knows. There’s no way he can’t know.

He knows it especially when he recognizes Seungkwan’s car in the parking lot of the diner on a Tuesday night, right on time. He knows he fucked everything up because he tells Mingyu to say he’s not here and hides in the walk in freezer.

He hides there because the air dries his eyes out so he can’t cry. He hides because there’s surveillance cameras in the back room and he can watch Seungkwan drive away without having to see his face.

He feels awful, but it feels right. There’s no more wondering about why he feels bad at this point. No more ambiguity. Somehow it’s easier.

Time passes like that, for a while. He falls back into his routine, pre-Seungkwan. Wake up, go to work, come home and sleep. Vernon’s been doing it his whole life, so there shouldn’t be any reason why things should feel any different.

Maybe a new customer will come along and this whole thing will start over again. Vernon will forget, as everything and everyone moves on, and he’ll feel good again.

It’s just a mood, it’s going to pass.

Vernon tries to make the most out of his time alone. Chan quit his boba place job and is always at the studio. Seokmin is pretty busy these days hanging out with Jeonghan. It’s not a pair he would have predicted, but they get along well enough.

It’s been a few weeks since the karaoke night.

That’s left him enough time to make all the self-deprecating pies he wants. “Sorry, I really didn’t mean to ghost you” pie. “I’m wondering if there’s a way to make this better” pie. “I can’t explain how you made me feel and that scared me” pie. None of them have been great hits with the general public.

Eventually, the diner runs out of flour. Vernon decides that on his lunch break, he’ll head out for a quick grocery run. The walk there is ten minutes, but he can make it in four. It’s carefully measured. There’s no room for mistakes. Mingyu only tells him to make sure to put on a sweater before going out. He’s surprisingly timid about everything.

Vernon leaves his apron at the till before he leaves. He walks out, letting the autumn air bite him in some kind of sadistic way.

He’s too busy contemplating whether or not he should go back inside, he doesn’t notice a red car pull in.

“Vernon the waitress.”

His head snaps up.

“Seungkwan. Hey. I didn’t expect to see you today.”

“You would’ve, if you checked your phone.”

Vernon lets his mouth hang open, not sure what to say.

“What are you doing here?”

Seungkwan takes his time to think.

“I’m not sure, anymore. I originally planned to yell at you, but you look so sad. I’d feel bad.”

“Ha ha,” Vernon tries to say sarcastically, but it just comes out dull. Look at him, proving Seungkwan’s point.

“Now, I guess whatever we talk about is up to you.”

“I’m sorry,” Vernon says. It’s quite a lame apology.

“What are you sorry for?” Seungkwan asks. The words sound like they’re supposed to be mean, but he just sounds curious.

“For not texting you back. And… for not being clear with you.”

“You have a chance, now, to be clear. If you want to.”

“I do. I just can’t.”

Seungkwan looks disappointed.

“I like you,” Vernon says, “Like a lot. But like, I don’t know what I want. And that’s not fair to you.”

“So you just decided not to talk to me?”

“I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“Vernon, I wanna get mad at you so bad but you’re making it really hard for me.”

“You can hate me,” Vernon says. He fidgets with his shirt hem. “It’d be easier.”

Seungkwan shakes his head, “I don’t care about easy. I just want you to be honest.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. What do you want to say?”

It’d be easy to say that he never wants to see Seungkwan ever again. That’d be easy.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how to talk about it without inviting you in. I don’t want you to feel the same way I do.”

Vernon, feeling utterly defeated, turns back towards the diner. He needs to grab his sweater or something. He takes a few steps away, each one with weight. But then there’s Seungkwan’s hand on his wrist, incredibly light.

“Vernon, wait.”

He turns around, trying not to look like his heart had just been torn out and trampled. The ache is back, the one that pokes at his insides telling him he is missing something. He'd begun to think that it must've been a person, but that's not right either.

He can't ask Seungkwan to be his bandaid. He can't pretend that it's easy to change either.

“Yeah?” he asks, just above a whisper.

“Do you…” Seungkwan starts uncharacteristically shy, “do you still like my hair?”

Vernon loves quietly— little touches, little gestures, little words. But that's not the whole truth. It swells just beside his heart: the unsaid words, ungiven gestures, unfelt touches.

He wants to love loudly but he can't. He doesn't know how to.

The words just won't come out of his mouth, no matter how much he practices them in the back of his head. He starts to wonder how much more he can take, how much more feelings need to build up before he explodes. They have to, right?

He can't just hold them in forever.

“Yeah,” Vernon replies. “Yeah, I do.”

He can’t hold them forever.

**Author's Note:**

> thx for reading! not beta-d again
> 
> plz leave a comment with ur thoughts it'd mean a lot. this one's been cooking for a few months but I suddenly got the inspo to write the ending today, I hope it wasn't too fast
> 
> this is officially the longest fic I have on here, cheers


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